


are you happy?

by klaviergavout



Category: The Burnt Part Boys - Miller/Tysen/Elder
Genre: Gen, character study sort of, we love frances boggs in this House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/pseuds/klaviergavout
Summary: well, is she?





	are you happy?

**Author's Note:**

> here it is, the inevitable first fic for my favourite musical of all time. this one goes out to all the fans of underrated musical theatre, i hope you enjoy this little thing :')

"where are you thinkin' of goin' once we get home, frances?"

three good hours of walking at a much slower pace than how they made it up and the five of them have finally made it halfway down the mountain, stopping for a quick snack break. luckily for frances, the others came prepared; having left her gun back in the woods on pete's request, she's got no means of getting food the way she's used to, and has instead had to borrow from jake's supplies. she sinks her teeth gratefully into an apple and the sour tang of it hits her fast. she wonders why she hasn't had an apple in so long. she remembers the question.

"back to the woods, i guess."

frances doesn't bother to swallow the remnants of her first bite before taking another one out of the fruit, cringing a little at the bemused look on pete's face as she does so. she forgets sometimes that they've always been accustomed to small town life, have never had to call nature their only real home.

"no way i'm going back to live with my ma now, the state she's in." frances feels the anger surge through her, grits her teeth, bites it down. "i'd rather be trapped in the fuckin' mine."

cue a series of offended gasps, some because she mentioned the mine and some because she swore; dusty _hmph's_ and turns away awkwardly, still unable to justify either of those things. the shame that sinks in then wouldn't normally bother her if her mind wasn't swarming with the feel of dusty's hand wrapped tightly in hers, bodies trembling on cold hard rock, inches, seconds away from death.

frances tries her best not to look at him.

chet's the only one who laughs at what she said because of course he is, sat a few feet away next to jake, beer in hand. "you said it, kid. hey, d'you want some?" she's offered the beer, takes it, has a swig. it's disgusting. who willingly drinks that? her tongue sticks out, full of apple, and finally dusty and pete join in the laughter.

jake remains silent but his mouth twitches a little when he hears pete laugh, the only sound that's brought him any real comfort these past twenty-four hours. frances isn't surprised; even chet who loves his job more than anything wouldn't go up the mine on a saturday morning. jake wouldn't have gone to the burnt part if it wasn't for pete and now that pete's safe, he's much less miserable. it looks to frances like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

jake sits in quiet observation for a while before turning towards her with questioning eyes and asking, "are you happy?"

frances doesn't really know how to answer that and it annoys her immediately. she crosses her arms as she fidgets in her seat, defensiveness beginning to surface. "what?"

"i said, are you happy? living out here on your own." it's a fair enough question, especially for someone who's just had to re-evaluate his own happiness, but the way he's looking at her makes frances feel as if she's under interrogation. he's staring right through her and into her soul.

so frances snaps back with a "you think i'd be here if i wasn't?" but she knows that he knows that that isn't quite true.

she doesn't mention the mosquitoes that swarm around her camp at night, that sneak into her tent and leave little red bites scattered around her legs. she doesn't mention how long it takes to go to the river to collect water every day only to still taste metal, bitter and bloody on her tongue when she drinks, as if the mines will always have a chokehold on her life. she doesn't mention all the missed shots, all the wasted bullets on squirrels and rabbits that got away, and she definitely doesn't mention the wrenching pain in her chest each time she has to go back to pickaway, only to have to keep in the shadows, steal some food and run away again. it seems like all she ever does is run.

when the five of them make it to her camp that afternoon pete promises that they'll come back for her, still high on the same blind enthusiasm that he had coming up. but frances shakes her head, throat dry and closing in. she doesn't want them to come back because she's never been good at goodbyes. instead she much prefers to avoid them, prefers to run away where no one can find her and no one can judge her and she can just pretend that in five years she's going to be a nature ranger, or an astronaut, and she can be happy alone for the rest of her life.

because she is happy.

right?


End file.
